bunt sign

Monday, June 10, 2002

I've been a little neglectful of my creatures. By the time my work day was through this afternoon and I could survey the acreage, the birdbath was bone dry, the bowls had been knocked off the auxiliary birdbaths (the ones made of upturned flower pots), and the feeder was empty.

I should have jumped up and taken care of everything, but I didn't. I rested my weary eyes and my weary body for awhile and tended to the birds after the sun started to set and the air cooled off some.

The truly neglected part of the acreage is the back yard, where most of the high weeds are growing. I guess I'm hoping they'll just lie down in the heat, because most days that's what I feel like doing myself. I definitely don't feel like wading into the weeds, but it's not because of the physical activity. I can do the work. I just can't stand the way the dry stickers get into my clothes and scratch up my skin.

Every time I spend twenty minutes in the yard I spend forty minutes picking things out of my socks and hair. Even then I don't always get it all. That's the one factor that's keeping me from getting through the rest of the weeds and making the yard look presentable. I haven't even been watering because I have to walk through those nasty things to do it.

I'm disgusted and disappointed with myself, and I'd probably pay someone to take care of it all if they'd just do it and I didn't have to call them and tell them about it, or look them in the eye when they come out to do the work. I have a feeling they'll judge me even more harshly than I judge myself.

But last week you couldn't even see that wheelbarrow.

If you were wondering why I've been taking photos of the sky, it's because this is what the yard looks like.

I'm used to seeing birds fly off in all directions whenever I walk out my front door. Today as I was heading from the house to the garage, I passed the thick, shady bushes at the edge of the garden and heard a rush of sound that I first took to be the fluttering of wings.

But it was too loud and lasted too long, and I realized it was instead the thundering of hooves. I didn't see the deer, but not seeing it is how I knew it was a deer. They move faster than my eye can focus. One of them must have been either munching on leaves or getting some relief from the sun.

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